


When the Night Gets Dark

by as_with_a_sunbeam



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Election of 1800, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 01:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20282860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_with_a_sunbeam/pseuds/as_with_a_sunbeam
Summary: "The flame within him had burned too bright, too hot, too out of control, until it had consumed everything in its path: their marriage, their son, and, finally, Alexander himself. He was left exhausted and defeated in its wake. She didn’t want that—she’d never wanted him to be so guilty and broken."__As the Election of 1800 approaches, Alexander and Eliza finally take that walk by the lake.





	When the Night Gets Dark

Eliza turned her face into her shoulder to cover a yawn before slipping her hand out of the warm cocoon of blankets, turning the page of her book. Though it was still early evening, the overcast day and the warmth of the fire both served to make her prematurely drowsy. She felt Alexander shiver beside her. Quickly gathering the blankets back around them, she snuggled against her husband. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

He gave a sleepy grunt. His breathing was slow and even, his chest rising in a steady rhythm beneath her. She twisted around so she could see his face.

“Do you still have chills?”

“Mm.”

She wasn’t sure he’d even heard the question. Stretching up, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Honey? You need to wake up. You’ll never be able to sleep tonight.”

He rarely slept through the night these days. The nightmares saw to that. All too often she found him slumped over his desk or dozing in the parlor at odd hours.

“I’m awake.” His bruised lids fluttered before falling closed again.

She reached towards him to run the back of her fingers along his cheek. He leaned into the affectionate gesture, but a wry smile began around the corners of his mouth. “I don’t have a fever, if that’s what you’re checking.”

No, he didn’t, she confirmed. If only it were something so simple. Fevers, at least, she knew how to fix. When she shifted again, his arm snaked around her waist to keep her close.

“Stay. I’m cold.”

He was always cold lately. The flame within him had burned too bright, too hot, too out of control, until it had consumed everything in its path: their marriage, their son, and, finally, Alexander himself. He was left exhausted and defeated in its wake. She didn’t want that—she’d never wanted him to be so guilty and broken.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” she suggested with forced lightness. 

His eyelids peeled open at last. “A walk?”

“To the lake,” she said. “The fresh air will do you good.”

He frowned in a way she felt sure meant he was going to refuse. Rather than let him, she pushed aside her book and the blankets, rose, and brushed the lint from her dress before reaching out to take his hand. “Come on. Walk with me.”

With a tired sigh, he nodded, and let her pull him up from the sofa.

After affixing their cloaks, they set out into the cool, gray twilight. The back of her hand bumped his as they walked, and she twisted hers around to press her palm to his, their fingers entwining. His fingers felt icy. She rubbed a circle with her thumb over his hand, hoping to encourage his blood to circulate.

Dried leaves and undergrowth crunched under her boots as she led the way through the forest path, using her free hand to push away stray branches while she tugged her husband along with the other. His breathing sounded heavy in the quiet. When she glanced back, he paid her a weak smile. The muted hoot of an owl overhead heralded the approaching dusk as the lake at last came into view.

“It will be dark soon,” Alexander said. “Will you be able to find the way back?” A little worry wrinkle had appeared in his brow when she glanced back again.

She squeezed his hand. “Of course. You’re safe with me, my love.”

A lesser man might have laughed at that sort of reassurance from his wife, but Alexander looked nothing but comforted. “I never doubted it, my angel.”

They made their way along the circular path leading to her father’s dock, where he kept his fishing boat tied during the summer. Impulsively, Eliza tugged her husband down across the creaking planks. She bounded towards the end of the dock and plopped down on the edge, immediately bending her leg to unfasten her shoe.

“What are you doing?” Alexander asked around a breath that could almost have been a laugh. She paused for a moment, looking up at him with wonder. It had been so long since she’d last heard him laugh.

“Sit,” she instructed, patting at the wood beside her. “We can dip our toes in the water. I used to do it all the time when I was little.”

He lowered himself into a seat, but protested, “The water must be freezing.”

“Live a little.” The reply was meant to be flippant, but her voice took on a desperate quality. That spark within him that she’d first fallen in love with had fizzled out to nothing. His hair had gone gray in the past months, his face stamped heavily with grief and heartache. He would never truly forgive himself, she knew, but she wants him to try. Please, she implored him silently, please try to live.

He studied her for a long moment, then contorted to start unfastening his own shoe. Their stockings both followed, the silky fabric carelessly tossed aside on the dirty wooden planks as they dangled their bare feet into water. Eliza shivered as the water lapped over her skin.

“Cold?” Alexander asked, almost teasing.

“A little,” she admitted. A hint of flirtation entered her voice as she inched closer to him. “Keep me warm?”

He gave an exaggerated sigh, his eyes rolling up towards the heavens even as he stretched an arm around her and said, “I suppose.”

The playful dramatics, once so familiar from him, made her laugh with delighted surprise, and she saw his expression grow soft and fond in response. Brushing a stray hair away from her face self-consciously, she asked, “What?”

“I’ve missed your laugh.”

They used to laugh together so easily. Everything had gotten so hard, so dark, and she’d wondered for a long time if she’d ever feel true happiness again. Smiling softly, she said, “I’ve missed it, too.”

Alexander’s thumb stroked over her upper arm. His head tipped forward and his lips brushed over hers. She leaned her head on his shoulder when he pulled away, content. The shadows behind the trees were growing long, the sun nearly set behind the horizon. Despite the impending dark, she had no desire to start back for the house.

A long stretch of companionable silence followed. The cloud cover shifted as the sun disappeared, and the waning moon emerged over them, reflecting in the glassy surface of the lake. Eliza turned her eyes upward to see the first twinkling stars peeking out overhead.

“What a beautiful night,” she said.

“Hm?”

When she looked at her husband, she saw his focus pull away from the water under their feet. “The stars are coming out,” she said, gesturing upwards.

His chin tilted up. “Oh, yes, so they are. How lovely.”

“What were you looking at?”

She felt him shrug. “Just…the ripples.”

“Ripples?” she asked, amused. Her gaze dropped down to where Alexander’s foot was tracing lazy circles. Ripples were whirling out across the water, distorting the reflection of the moon above.

“Some don’t go very far.” His voice was serious, almost melancholy.

She sensed his distraction, something larger weighing on his mind. The memory of the morning’s headline occurred to her, and things seemed to fit into place. “Have you heard any more news about the election?”

He gave a dismissive little grunt.

His legacy and his ability to be of service in the future would both be at risk if his old rival attained the highest office in the land. How her husband liked his metaphors, she thought fondly. Ripples, indeed.

“Well, I hope Mr. Jefferson won’t win, for your sake.”

Alexander’s head whipped towards her. “But he must win.”

Her mouth parted slightly in surprise. “Surely Mr. Burr—”

“I disagree with Jefferson about almost everything. But at least he has principles. That’s more than I can say for Burr.” 

“Alexander,” she sighed. Her standard admonishments were already on her tongue—let it go, focus on your family, what we have here is enough—but she couldn’t quite bring herself to verbalize any of them.

His eyes, just visible in the moonlight, were flashing suddenly with a familiar spark. Beneath the lines set deep in his face, she glimpsed her young, fiery Colonel. She hadn’t seen that spark in so, so long.

“You should let your opinion be known, then,” she said instead. His head tilted slightly to the side, studying her. “Whatever else has happened in the past few years, the people still respect you, and they look to you to show them the way. You should warn them about Mr. Burr.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, loaded with a significance she didn’t yet understand.

But the fire that blazed back to life behind his eyes made them impossible to regret.

\--

The full heat of summer clung to the night air when Eliza next returned to the lake. Alone and dressed all in black, she seemed almost to melt into the darkness, illuminated only by the moon hovering high in the sky above her. She wandered out onto the dock and sat heavily, pulling off her shoes and stockings to dip her feet into the water. As she sat, a cloud shifted overhead, and the sudden light from the moon appeared bright as the fiery sun in the reflection below. Swirling her toes, she watched with satisfaction as ripples flowed ever outwards across the glassy surface.

She would make sure they never stopped.

“Don’t worry, my love,” she whispered. “You’re safe with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this piece for the hamliza zine, which sadly didn't work out, so now I'm posting it here for you all to enjoy. It's heavily influenced by the musical, set in the midst of "The Election of 1800." Hamilton is so distant and depressed at the beginning of that song, right on the heels of "It's Quiet Uptown." Fighting Burr brings back some of his old spark, but I've always imagined Eliza playing a role in pushing him back towards himself. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated!


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